


Teraya

by Reyka_Sivao



Series: Piperverse Standalones [8]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors
Genre: Consent and checking in, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Interspecies Relationship(s), Meet the Family, Mind Meld, One Big Happy Family, Pon Farr, Vulcan Bond, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Kisses, in the backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyka_Sivao/pseuds/Reyka_Sivao
Summary: Terau: to join togetherTeraya: (noun pair) the joining-togetherSequel to Threshold!, which was the sequel to Dreadnaught! and Battlestations!Piper and Sarda navigate a new relationship—while meeting each other’s families.
Relationships: Piper/Sarda (Star Trek)
Series: Piperverse Standalones [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171973
Comments: 22
Kudos: 13





	1. Enterprise

Chapter 1: Enterprise

With a long sigh, I finally pressed the entrance button to our quarters on the Enterprise. 

It had been too long, and felt even longer. 

What was SUPPOSED to have been a fairly relaxing mission babysitting a science fair—ok, conference—had turned into a nightmare involving kidnapping, a pain machine, a Romulan who I would have been happy to see mauled by a hoard of rabid squirrels, and Sarda almost dying. 

That was really the kicker right there. Because Sarda _not_ dying had, long story short, involved the creation of a telepathic bond and us functionally becoming married. And Sarda feeling immense guilt over the whole situation. 

I dropped my fleet-issue duffle near the door and flopped face first onto my fleet-issue bunk with a groan that rivaled the warp engines. 

It took me a minute to gather enough effort to sit up again, but when I did, Sarda was still standing but the door, looking lost and uncertain, despite the fact that these had been his quarters longer than mine. 

“Sarda?”

He seemed to shake himself ever so slightly, but stayed put. 

“Hey, Sarda,” I said, more gently. “Come here.” 

Slowly, carefully, Sarda set down his bag at a perfect right angle to the wall. Then he moved to stand in front of me, almost at attention. 

This wasn’t going to be easy, was it?

Originally, he had said we should break the bond. But when I forced an answer out of him, he admitted that he didn’t _want_ to break it—only that it seemed the most _logical_ thing to do. But that didn’t mean it was going to be easy to find a new equilibrium. 

I took a deep breath and patted the bed beside me. “Join me?” I offered. 

Stiffly, Sarda sat down beside me. 

“Are you ok?” I asked. 

“I am not unwell.”

I was quiet for a moment, trying to think what to say to make this easier, and hoping we’d made the right choice. 

“It’s gonna be awkward for a bit, isn't it?” I said, a little sadly. 

Sarda took his own moment of silence. 

“I confess that I do not know how I should behave. But…” he hesitated. 

“But?” I prompted after a moment.

“But...I cannot wish to be elsewhere.”

I closed my eyes and pulled his warmth toward me. No, we _had_ made the right decision. 

“Ok,” I said, looking up again. “So...are you...waiting for me to, like, give you permission?”

Sarda’s frame relaxed the smallest fraction. 

“It would...provide some assistance.”

“Hmm.” I looked at him sidelong, and then turned toward him. “Ok, let me try to be explicit, then. Anything you did before? Feel free to do it. This is _your_ space as much as mine—you get to use it however you want. And if anything bothers me, I promise to tell you. Does that help?”

Slowly, Sarda nodded. “It does.”

“But more than that,” I said, and then hesitated. 

Sarda looked at me. 

“More than that,” I repeated. “If you want...if you want to do more. I dunno. If you want to change in here rather than in the head, I won’t mind, for instance. If you want to—”

I cut myself off. 

“If I want to what?”

I laughed a little. “Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“I...would like to know.”

I looked down at my knees, trying not to imagine too much. 

“It’s just…” I paused, and then barreled on. “I want...I want you to be more comfortable with my body?” I said. “Not even...not even sexually. Just, like, physically. I mean both, but, I get that it’s hard and might take time and I don’t want to pressure you and—“

I was babbling. I took a breath. “You’re holding yourself like you’re scared of accidentally brushing against me, and I want nothing more than to get to the point where that isn’t terrifying for you.”

Sarda looked down at the floor for the space of a few measured breaths. 

“I treasure your hope,” he said, so softly I almost couldn’t hear it. “But it is...difficult.” He looked up. “Perhaps...you have suggestions?”

I looked at him for a moment. “Um…..how do you feel about back rubs?”

He tilted his head, and I felt my lips twitch. “Here,” I said. “Turn away from me.”

He looked a little uncertain, but complied. 

I turned to face his back, and placed my hands flat against his shoulders. 

“Like this,” I said. “I can rub your shoulders and back, and it should feel nice. How does that sound?”

“I see.”

That wasn’t...exactly a yes, but knowing Sarda, it was as much encouragement as he could muster. 

Careful to keep an eye out for any sign that I should stop, I began kneading his shoulders, and neck, and upper back—not deeply, with just enough pressure that it should feel solid and grounding. 

“Will you promise me something?” I said.

“Yes.”

“I need you to...I need you to enforce boundaries with me. Like. I can be a _dunce,_ ok? I know you’re in uncharted territory right now, so I’ll try my hardest, but I need you to _promise_ me you’ll tell me if I go too far. Please.”

Sarda took a deep breath. “Very well. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

I let my touch soften a little, and then pulled away. “So. How was that? Fun? Uncomfortable?”

“It was…” He hesitated, but only for a moment. “It is...reassuring, to know that you are not opposed to...touching me.”

“Never,” I said. 

He turned back towards me and looked at me before dropping his eyes. “Would you object if I...offered reciprocation?”

It felt like a supernova had exploded in my chest. 

“Oh my god,” I said. “ _Please.”_

I turned away at roughly the same angle he had. It took another long moment, but then I felt the soft touch of his hands through my shirt. 

They stroked up and then down, almost ticklingly gentle. 

“Maybe a little more pressure?”

Sarda obliged, and I sighed in contentment. Not just because I badly needed the kinks worked out of my back, but because it was _him_. 

It was Sarda. Touching me. Not out of necessity, but just because right here, right now, we _could_. 

All too soon, he pulled away. “I find myself in need of rest.”

In spite of myself, I yawned. “Yeah. Same.”

Sarda rose to move toward his own bunk. 

“Sarda?”

He turned to look back at me. I felt suddenly shy. 

“If….if you wanted to. You’re always welcome in my bunk.”

He froze. 

“Only if you want to,” I repeated desperately. “I mean I’ll definitely understand if you don’t think we can fit or you need your privacy or you just don’t want to but…”

Sarda took a deep, controlling breath. Then, painfully slowly, he turned back towards me. 

“You...wish to share your bed with me?”

“I mean…yeah,” I said. “I mean, not sex. Not tonight. But….sleeping, yeah. That would be...nice.”

Sarda seemed torn for a moment, but then moved toward me as though drawn by a tractor beam. “Are you...certain?”

I found myself smiling. “God. Yes. Please.” I made an awkward roll to pull down the covers and scooted toward the wall to make room for him. 

Hesitantly, he perched on the edge of the bunk, bent to remove his boots, and looked at me. 

I smiled until my face hurt, and lifted the coverlet to offer him room. 

Still hesitant, he slowly shifted towards me and let the Starfleet-issue covers envelope him. 

I raised my arm to his shoulder and gave the slightest tug toward me. 

He allowed me to guide him towards myself, and it seemed like a he closest he had ever been to me, despite the fact that he’d been literally inside me less than 24 hours ago. But no, THIS was a far more intimate gesture, and I treasured that. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” I murmured sleepily. “Wrap your arms around me, twist your legs with mine, or don’t. Whatever works best for you.”

Slowly, Sarda shifted closer to me. He reached out his arms, but hesitated until I took his hands and physically wrapped them around by body. 

“Please, Sarda,” I whispered. “I need you to show me if you want this or not.”

It took another moment of hesitation, but then he tentatively tightened his grip. 

I almost glowed with joy and pulled him closer to me as well. 

“Is this gonna be ok for you to sleep?” I whispered. 

Sarda seemed to relax just a little more. “I...believe it will be restful. Yes.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my eyes open. “Same.”

—

The worst part about having accidentally gotten married was the fact that I couldn’t even tell everyone about it. 

I mean. I could and did tell them that Sarda and me were together now, but the part where it had originally been an accident would require explaining some things where Sarda considered privacy more important than life, and truth be told I wasn’t too keen to tell the whole story either. 

But now it was time to relay the G-rated version of the story back to Proxima Beta.

The screen flickered momentarily, and then the standard-issue star fleet background was replaced by my mother's face. I grinned.

"Hey, mom. How's it going down in moss world?"

She grinned back at me. "Well, you've missed a pretty epic war of attrition between Hunter and your Aunt Doreen. They've gotten so far into the minutia of cosmological theory that the rest of us can hardly follow them anymore, but apparently they disagree on some pretty vital matters. Of some sort."

I shook my head and groaned. "Aw, man," I said. "I'd pay good credits to see that. I might even dig out my old cosmology textbook and join the fun."

"You should do that. When are they going to let you take shore leave on backward old Proxima? Or are you going to go back on your promise to come see us already?"

I groaned. "Oh, come on, mom! Could you wait to lay on the guilt trip until you see if there's something I'm actually guilty of? Geez."

She waved a hand. "Sorry, sorry," she said unapologetically. "So, when are you coming?"

I smiled. "I've actually got a longish shore leave coming up next month," I said. "I was wondering if that would be a good time. Unless, of course, you've decided that you'd rather not have me around anymore..." I mock-pouted to get her back for guilt-tripping me.

Mom's eyes brightened. "It's a date, then! When can you be here? I'll let everyone know so they can get their chance at you."

I raised my arm in mock defense, but told her the stardate.

"You might want to let them know to tone it down just a notch," I said, suddenly feeling a little weird. "I'm...actually bringing someone with me."

Mom blinked, and then her eyes sharpened. Godsdammit, she was going to be like that, wasn't she?

"Bringing someone with you?" she said innocently. "Are they...someone _special_?"

I scrubbed my forehead vigorously. She usually liked to know more about my personal life than I was willing to admit, but there was only one answer I could give.

"...yeah," I said. "I was hoping he could meet everyone."

Mom's eyes widened with shock, and then she was settling into her chair and grinning at me. "Well, that _does_ sound special," she said. "Bringing him home to meet the parents and everything? When was the last time THAT happened?"

"...never," I admitted. It had come close with Brian Silayna, but when your distance from home is measured in light years, things don't always work out.

"My point exactly. So, who is this mystery man? Why haven't you told me about him before?"

I scoffed. “Pretty sure I’ve told you a thing or two about Sarda.”

Mom’s eyes did a little dance, threw in a couple calculations, and ended on an error code. “The Vulcan?”

“The very one.”

“I thought you two ended with some….professional differences.”

I shrugged self-consciously. "Let's say we came to a meeting of the minds.”

Mom raised her eyebrows. "Apparently." She settled back. "So," she directed. "Tell me all about him."

I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at her like a twelve year old, and settled for a suitably severe scowl. I did what she said, though.

“I mean, first of all, I’m pretty sure I _did_ tell you he and I had made amends, but I guess if you weren’t paying attention…”

Mom rolled her eyes and made a vague gesture. 

“Well...ever since we made our peace again, he’s been my rock. He gives me perspective and reminds me to think before I act.” I smiled. “He’s also become so much less dependent on what the other Vulcans think of him. I’m happy for him, you know?

“He’s wicked smart, and if you know what to look for, you can see the sense of humor he pretends not to have. I just…” I shrugged. “I like him.”

Mom nodded slowly, and her lips twitched. “Well, the look on your face when you talk about him tells me a lot. But tell me, does he appreciate you?"

I snorted. "Hells yes. Come on, mom, do you really think I'd pick someone who took me for granted? Hell, do you think he could? Do you realize how few Vulcans are in inter-species relationships?"

Mom frowned. "I hadn't thought about it. Is it really that rare?"

I nodded. "It's not quite unheard of anymore, but it's still vanishingly rare. Also..." I glanced around to see if Sarda was there, even though I knew he wasn't. "Also, Vulcans can be horrible bigots. He was ever-so-politely declared anathema for working in weapons design, and being with me really isn't going to help his case among them."

Mom's frown only deepened. "That sounds like quite the commitment. Just how 'together' ARE you two?"

Ah, yes. That question. I held up a hand.

"Very together."

That earned me a look, and I shrugged.

"It's...complicated."

"Are you pregnant?"

I shot her a look. "Not THAT kind of complicated." 

“Then…?”

I raised my hand and rapped the side of my head. “Vulcans are telepaths,” I said. “He...basically created a telepathic link between us.”

Mom gave me another look. "That sounds awfully married to me.”

I made a face that was half smile and half guilt. "As far as Vulcans are concerned...yeah, pretty much.”

"And this is the first I hear of it? No invite to the wedding or anything?"

I made an even more complicated face at that one. "There wasn't a wedding, mom. If we have one, you're certainly invited."

"Still, that sounds awfully fast."

I shrugged. "There was a mission. Let's just say we were incited to re-evaluate our priorities."

Mom gave me a skeptical look. I sighed.

"Look, mom, do you really want a play-by-play account of my every thought? I nearly lost him on the mission, and I realized that I didn't want to wait until it was too late. It's not like I just met him--we've been friends for some time, and we had to patch that friendship up from dust after I nearly ruined it the first time. We've learned to work together, we've learned to disagree, we've learned that we can deal with accidentally hurting each other and then make things right again. It's really not as sudden as it must sound like." When that still didn't quite seem to satisfy her, I added, "Besides, it's not like we're married as far as you're concerned. For you, we're more like...engaged. With a telepathic bonus."

That seemed to mollify her a little. "How exactly does that work?"

I threw up my hands. "You expect me to be able to describe it? He's...tucked away in a corner of my brain. I can feel him. It's..." I shook my head. "It's kind of amazing, and I'm positively kicking myself that it took me so long to see what he meant to me."

Mom gave me that mom-look for a solid thirty-seven years of my internal clock, and then sharply nodded. "If you're sure you're where you want to be right now."

I smiled. That, at least, I was sure of. "Absolutely, mom. And next month, you can meet him and form your own impressions. I promise, this is a good thing--and remember, he's risking a hell of a lot more to be with me than I am to be with him." That was true, no matter what he thought.

Mom smiled back at me. "All right. Well then, unless you have any other life-altering news that you'd like to share with us..."

I pretended to ponder that, and then shook my head.

"...then I think I'll go and let the others know that you're coming. I could leave the commlink open if you want to hear the reaction."

I laughed. "Tempting, but I think I'm good, thanks."

"All right then. Love you, Piper."

"Love you, mom."

"See you in a month!"

And then the screen winked back to starfleet basics, and I slumped back on my chair. "That was more difficult than it had any right to be," I muttered to myself, and then stretched and wondered how Sarda's equivalent conversation had gone.

—

Sarda stood alone on the empty hanger deck, looking at nothing.

He needed to contact his clan, but he had to clear his mind first. That was why he was here--to attempt to meditate--but now that he was here, he still could not slow his mind. He could not even bring himself to kneel, so he stood and looked out at the stars as they passed him by.

His blood had finally cooled, but it still hummed with his equivalent of adrenaline. His thoughts turned to that, again, and again he could not quite believe that he was alive.

And yet, not only was he alive, he was bonded. It still seemed impossible, but Piper wanted this. Wanted him. 

And he believed her. That was a gift he would always treasure, no matter what else happened. 

They would have to figure this out on their own, for there was little chance that any of his clan would be willing to offer advice or aid. Her family might accept him, but there was little enough they could do to help with figuring out how to work with a cross-species telepathic bond. 

But who could he call on for aid? His teacher had crossed too many lines, and Starfleet's doctors were not like the healers of Vulcan. But he was not a well-trained telepath, and they needed someone who could repair the badly unbalanced bond he had created. Piper still didn’t quite understand that. 

Who could he ask, though? He did not know any telepaths of the requisite strength, Vulcan or otherwise.

...he did not, but perhaps another would. 

Sarda frowned, but he could find nothing wrong with the logic of the situation—though his mind was still far from clear. 

Spock might be able to help him find someone. He had already aided him in finding a teacher, and though Sarda was loath to ask for such a favor a second time, circumstances seemed to warrant it. Nor was it only for him, this time.

He pulled out his communicator and stared at it for a moment before flipping it open.

"Lieutenant Sarda to Commander Spock," he recited carefully.

There was a pause that was a fraction too long before the response came.

"Spock here."

Sarda closed his eyes. "I have no wish to disturb you, but there is a matter which I wish to discuss." Was that too strong? This was important, but not precisely urgent. Not anymore. "At your earliest convenience," he amended.

There was another brief pause. "Now would be an amenable time."

Sarda nearly let out a sigh. He was still not back to normal. Perhaps he should have waited. But no, some things were better not put off.

"That would be acceptable."

"Very well. I will be at your location shortly, unless you have another preference for a meeting point."

Sarda shook his head slightly, illogical though it was. "Here would be acceptable."

"Very well. Spock out."

—

Sarda spent the few minutes it took for Spock to arrive looking out at the stars and trying to pull himself back together. He was tired, he had finally noticed, as the pounding in his blood finally faded away. Very tired, and not remotely sure if he was doing the right thing. He should not have bothered a superior officer about that, but he did not know who else to turn to.

When the doors finally slid open, Sarda took one last moment to himself before turning around. Fortunately, Spock was imperturbable--looking far more Vulcan than he felt himself to be at the moment.

"Sarda," said Spock, nodding his greeting with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Commander," said Sarda, returning the nod.

"There is no need for titles," said Spock, "as I doubt you wish to discuss matters relating to Star Fleet."

Sarda glanced aside. "That is correct." It was harder, however, to say what he did wish to discuss. "I wished to ask...if you knew of a healer who has worked with Vulcan/human bonds."

Spock raised one eyebrow very slightly. "I know of several who might be willing to assist your bonding."

Sarda shook his head. "We are already bonded," he corrected. "I wish to ensure that I have not caused harm to her mind."

Spock was silent for a beat.

"It is generally considered wisest to seek a healer's assistance in the establishing of such a bond, though humans may be of a more impulsive nature."

Sarda found a panel on the wall to focus on. "That...was not an option," he managed.

There was another silence, but he did not look up to see Spock's reaction.

"I see," said Spock finally, and Sarda had no doubt that he did. "Did you seek a healer to strengthen your bond, or to dissolve it?"

It was Sarda's turn to be silent.

"I would have said the latter," he said finally, "but she wishes to remain bonded."

Spock nodded slowly. "Humans can be more resilient than we would give them credit for. I do not believe she will regret her choice."

Sarda looked aside again. "She may yet."

Spock looked at him for another measured moment. "My mother did not," he stated simply. "Indeed, if your bondmate wishes it, she would be more than willing to give her a human perspective."

Sarda frowned slightly, wishing to decline politely but not wanting to deprive Piper of something she could not otherwise obtain.

"I will send my mother a message," said Spock, saving him from his dilemma. "Let your bondmate decide whether to contact her."

Sarda nodded. "Thank you."

"I also know of several healers who would be willing to assist you. I shall send you their contact information, if that would be acceptable."

Sarda nodded again. "More than. I am in your debt once again."

Spock shook his head. "There is no debt," he said. "And, in more human terms...congratulations on your bonding."

Sarda twitched an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Then, unless there was anything else you wished to discuss, I believe we both have other matters to attend to."

Sarda nodded. "Again, I thank you."

Spock inclined his head. "Again, there is no need. Until next time, then."

He turned and stepped out of the hanger deck, leaving Sarda alone again with the stars and a little less foreboding.

—

The next conversation was less helpful, but equally necessary.

Sarda tuned his screen to the call from Vulcan, after having decided that it could wait a night while he rested and regained his control. There was a good chance he would need every ounce.

The screen flickered, and then he was faced with the task of explaining the situation to his clan, in the person of his mother.

"Mother," he said, inclining his head.

"Sarda," she said in response. "If, as I guess, you are calling to inquire if we have found you a bondmate, we have not. Few enough of those available are willing to be attached to one inStarfleet, and none of those to one who designs weapons for them. You may find that you have no choice but to return home."

Which, of course, was exactly what she wished. He had become little more than an embarrassment to a clan that had little enough status as it was. They wished him back under their influence, suitably chastened and silenced, and they were more than willing to hold the possibility of a bondmate out before him like a mirage to encourage him to comply. It was quite clear, and yet Sarda found that he had never seen it quite so clearly as he did at that moment.

He inclined his head. "That is almost correct," he said. "As it happens, my call is to inform you that I am already bonded."

Several seconds of silence were his mother's only outward indication of surprise.

"You discovered an unbonded Vulcan woman in Starfleet?" she questioned.

"I did not," said Sarda. "I found an unbonded woman in Starfleet, but she is human."

His mother's face hardened. "My son, bonded to a human?"

Sarda let one eyebrow raise slightly. "I had little choice in the matter," he informed her dispassionately.

For just an instant, he saw the current of shock light up her dark eyes. She had truly not expected that.

But it took her only an instant to hide the offending emotion.

"If it was an emergency situation, that is...different," she allowed. "Once we find a bondmate for you, you can have the link with your current partner dissolved."

It was all Sarda could do to hold his face—not only for the easy dismissal, or even the fact that she would not call Piper his bondmate, but also because the term she had used for 'current partner' was the same one Vorin had used to torment him with what felt like so long ago.

"That will not be necessary," he said, hands tensing below the viewscreen. "My bondmate does not wish it to be dissolved." 

His mother's eyebrows narrowed. "Your partner does not know what is best for her—nor, apparently, do you. Vulcans should be bonded to Vulcans, not to outworlders."

Sarda did not let his face change. "I believe it would be far from logical of me to forsake the one who was willing to aid me in my time of need."

"A fortunate occurrence," said his mother, "but far from a guarantee of success. You would do well to heed the advice of your elders."

"Be that as it may," said Sarda, inclining his head respectfully, "I will not leave her for as long as she wishes to remain with me."

His mother's face hardened further. "You would choose this human over your own clan, then?"

The question was the one he had most fervently wished to avoid. "I would prefer not to face that choice."

"And if you did?"

Sarda resisted the urge to let his breath turn into a sigh and bowed his head. "If forced to choose," he said, "I would of course choose the one to whom I owe the most loyalty." 

His mother’s lips parted to answer, perhaps in satisfaction, but he wasn’t finished. "I would choose my bondmate and shield-partner."

It was a strong term to use, and he knew it. Bad enough in his mother's eyes that he would call her bondmate...but ne ki’ne? Shield partner? Not only a term of intimacy, but one of _war?_

His mother looked at him for a very long moment, and he could feel his future being weighed in her mind. She had every right under the law to declare him clanless, outcast and rejected...and Sarda did not fear it. He met her eyes steadily, filled with little more than a mild curiosity over her choice. He had already established himself apart from them. He had already learned that their loyalty toward him did not extend past the point of their own desires. He had already pulled away from their influences, and discovered that he preferred who he was when they did not influence him. She had no hold over him anymore, and nothing with which to threaten him.

And she saw that too. He saw the defeat fill her eyes the instant her careful calculations told her he was a lost cause, though it was covered up an instant later.

"Bring her here," she instructed instead, and both Sarda's eyebrows rose at that. "Introduce her to the clan elders, and they as a whole will decide whether she will be considered one of us."

And, by extension, whether he would be. There was little chance that the elders would ever agree to such a thing. His mother had merely delayed her judgment in favor of attempting to change his mind in person.

Sarda inclined his head. "I will ask if she wishes to come.”

His mother nodded. "Do so," she instructed. "Let me know when you have an answer."

And without even a goodbye, the screen darkened and left Sarda alone.

He stared at the screen for a moment, and then slowly raised his hand. "Live long and prosper, Mother," he said softly, and then turned away. He was already as good as dead to them, and he knew it.

But he had spoken truly when he said he would rather not have made that choice.

—

Sarda had told me of his exchange with Spock, but it still somehow managed to surprise me when I received a brief, text-only message from Spock congratulating me on my recent bonding and confirming that, yes, his mother was more than willing to talk with me if I felt the need for a human perspective.

Which, truth be told, I did. My mom's great, especially with relationship advice, but there were still some things I couldn't tell her. Spock's mother, though, had been married to Vulcan for decades. I could ask her all the questions that had been burning through me. Well, assuming that I could figure out how to articulate any of them, which was more difficult than I would have guessed.

I didn't really like taking favors from people I'd never even met in person, but...well, I was going to. Because where the hell else was I going to get the answers I needed?

And that, I suppose, was how I found myself in front of the viewscreen, rubbing my fingers more nervously than I had any right to be, and waiting for Spock's legend of a mother to answer a call from little old me.

From the screen finally lit up, it showed an older woman in light, not-quite-Vulcan robes and a light, very-much-not-Vulcan smile on her face.

"Are you the Piper I've heard about?" she asked, and her voice sounded younger than she looked...or maybe just stronger than I thought.

"That's me," I said. "And you must be... Ms... Grayson?"

Smooth. I really didn't have any idea what she preferred to be called, though.

She smiled. "Vulcans tend to call me 'Lady Amanda'," she said, "but among humans, I usually prefer just 'Amanda'."

I nodded, not quite comfortable with using her name without a title, despite my own one-name background.

"But I hear that you have recently bonded with a Vulcan, and that you might have questions."

I sighed. "Oh, I do," I said. "I'm just...not sure where to start."

Amanda laughed softly, and I was unaccountably reassured by the sound. Even after living on Vulcan for half her life, she could still laugh. "I don't doubt it. From what Spock has told me, though, it was a bit of a snap decision." She gave me a look. "He also implied that there might have been less-than-ideal circumstances involved."

My shoulders relaxed. She already knew. But she was giving me the choice of whether to bring it up.

"Yeah," I said. "You could...definitely say that." I glanced aside for imaginary listeners, despite the fact that I'd been very careful to obtain my privacy before making the call.

"If you're worried about Vulcan taboos," said Amanda, raising a graceful hand, "don't be. We're both human here."

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, that brings me to question number one. What exactly is this mate-or-die situation _called_?”

Amanda gave a little sigh. “Pon farr,” she answered. “If you didn’t even manage to get that before…”

“Before becoming intimately involved in it? Yeah, no.”

“I see.”

“It was….complicated.”

Amanda nodded. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

“Well, in Sarda’s defense, our communication was somewhat hampered due to being captured by Romulans.”

Amanda's face registered shock for the first time.

"Romulans?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, and laughed a little grimly. "Yes, that IS my luck."

"What happened?"

"Well, one of the Romulans figured out what was going on with Sarda, and elected me to solve the problem."

That look of shock registered in her eyes again, but I barreled on. "At that point, all I'd managed to pick up on was the fact that Sarda was very possibly dying, and I was, well, kind of frantic and begging him to tell me how I could help. But I didn't figure out what was actually going on until he grabbed my face and his shields broke.”

"Oh dear," muttered Amanda softly. "Are you all right?”

I nodded. “I would have done a lot worse to help him.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“He tried his best to convince me to have the bond dissolved,” I added with a twinge. 

"But you don't want to?"

"No, I don't want to!” I said with more force than I intended. “I finally have what I couldn't even admit to myself that I wanted—why would I throw that away? Why would I throw _him_ away?”

"Vulcan guilt complexes can be breathtaking to behold," she said.

I shook my head. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

Amanda smiled. “No,” she said, “but is that what really matters to you?”

“No,” I said.

“Well then,” said Amanda. “Figure out what does really matter to you, and work on that.”

I sighed and changed the subject. “What about telepathy?” I asked.

Amanda inclined her head. “What about it?”

I shook mine. “It’s…all so new that I’m not even sure what to ask.”

Amanda frowned slightly. “Was this your first experience with telepathy?” she asked.

“…yes and no,” I said. “I hadn’t consciously realized it, but yeah, a link of sorts had already formed between us by the time…well, by the time I pulled his hands to my face and said ‘bond with me, you idiot’.”

“I see,” said Amanda. “Well, in that case, you’re probably going to want to get in all that practice you didn’t get beforehand. You’re going to need to learn how to navigate a mind-meld, and figure out how to be a more active participant in your bond.” She smiled. “I doubt ‘active’ will be much of a problem for you, but unless you already had a particularly high esper rating, it’s probably going to take some time before you understand how to ‘move’ in what’s essentially a completely new dimension.”

I shook my head. “Zilch,” I said. “My family’s got other talents, but that’s never been one of them.” I suddenly frowned. “Hold up,” I said. “‘Already had’ an esper rating? As opposed to what?”

Amanda held up a hand. “You’re mentally linked to a telepath. It’s hard to stay completely mind-blind like that.”

I shook my head again. “Are you saying I’m going to turn into a telepath?”

“No,” she said. “But you might start to pick up on stuff people are unconsciously ‘broadcasting’, at least a little. And you might be able to spot other telepathic species in a crowd, just because they ‘feel’ different.”

“Oh,” I said, not quite sure how to feel about that.

Amanda shook her head. “It’s nothing to worry about, even if it does happen. For now, just focus on trying to understand your own mind and your bondmate’s, and you’ll be fine.”

I rubbed my still-spinning head. “…thanks,” I said, and I did mean it.

Amanda smiled again. “Any time,” she said. “Do you have more questions now, or would you rather have a little time to process everything?”

My gut instinct was to say don’t go, I have more questions! But the truth was, I couldn’t actually think of any right at the moment.

“…I’m sure I have more, somewhere…” I said vaguely.

Amanda laughed. “I’m sure,” she said. “But you know how to get ahold of me now. Feel free to call or send a message if you manage to get hold of any more.”

I nodded. “I will,” I said. “I might make you quite tired of me before I have this all figured out.”

Amanda laughed again. “Let me know if you get everything figured out, because I’m sure I would have questions for _you_. But really, don’t hesitate. Sarek and I had to work through some things the hard way, and if I can make it easier for the next generation, I would like to.” She shook her head slightly. “Especially if you decide to have kids,” she added.

My brain took a right turn into what?

“Uhhh…” I said eloquently.

Amanda laughed. “Later. If ever. I have to go now, but don’t hesitate to message me any questions you come up with.” She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute, in what was probably an automatic gesture that I didn’t quite have the presence of mind to return. “Best of luck to you,” she said, sounding both oddly formal and oddly casual. “I wish you both happiness.”

And then her image winked out, leaving me with some answers and a nagging sense that I didn’t really know what I’d gotten myself into.


	2. Proxima

Shore leave was…interesting.

Granted, things always got interesting when I went home to visit family. That was a given. But, well…I’d never exactly gotten a chance to bring home a significant other before, and I really, really wasn’t sure how that would go.

“Could you at least remind everyone of the don’t-touch-Vulcans rule?” I had asked my mom before we got there.

She’d only laughed. “You think we’ll scare him off that easily?”

I’d made a face, and she’d thrown up her hands. “Fine, fine, no bear hugs. But we’re not _that_ touchy to begin with.”

I grimaced. “To Vulcans you are.”

And now, me and Sarda were taking that shuttle down through the green skies of my homeworld. 

In spite of myself, I found my nose glued to the porthole—I’d almost forgotten how beautiful it was.

When the shuttle touched down, my nerves returned. So did Sarda’s, though he was better at hiding it. 

I exited first, determined to make the most of the first time I’d had with my family in almost four years.

“Piper!” said several voices at once, and I found myself swept away in a bear hug by at least three people at the same time—my mother and my two siblings, if my guess was right. I couldn’t actually see.

“It’s good to have you back,” said my father from a little outside the throng, and several cousins, aunts, uncles, and assorted other relatives echoed the sentiments in various ways.

I grinned. “Aw, come on, like you could get rid of me that easily,” I said, and the huddle broke free, leaving me to greet the rest of them.

I could feel Sarda standing behind me, and I was quite sure his arms were clasped evenly behind his back as he waited for his introductions. He didn’t have to wait long.

“And you must be the Sarda I’ve heard so much about,” said my mother, turning to him with a smile and no offered handshake. I suppressed a sigh of relief. “I’m Piper’s mother,” she added, “but you can call me Gale.”

Sarda nodded in return. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said with a cadence that suggested he had looked up a list of synonyms for “hello”. 

I took over the introductions. “Everyone, this is Sarda. He’s gonna be sticking around, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to scare him off.” 

That got half the introductions out of the way. The other half involved introducing each sibling, cousin, aunt, uncle, and second cousin twice removed to Sarda, which took a fair bit longer, but was at least encouraged by the fact that as I did it, we were slowly moving towards the main house.

“Dinner’s ready!” called Aunt Doreen, which meant that I pulled Sarda in that direction, gave Aunt Doreen a hug, and then did yet another set of introductions, this time including the information that Sarda didn’t eat meat.

“Oh, not to worry,” said Aunt Doreen, “we always have at least a few vegetarians running around. Now, if you’ll only eat angiosperms, that might be an issue.”

Sarda did that not-quite frown of puzzlement. “I fail to see why that would be an issue.”

Aunt Doreen laughed. “Looks like you’ll do fine here, then.”

The main house was a huge building, the central feature of the sort of family-compound-slash-town that we lived in, featuring a large more-or-less communal kitchen and dining area. Aunt Doreen and her pet snake Nana were the only ones who slept here, along with any current guests who might be rattling around in the too-many bedrooms. Most of us lived in the smaller units that spread out from the main house.

We all filled out plates though the sort of organized chaos that was dinnertime on Proxima, and I glanced over to see how Sarda was doing.

His shields were held more tightly around him than usual, and I think I could have guessed that even without the bond, just by the stiffness in his shoulders and the way his hands were more likely to clasp in front than behind, protecting his core from the onslaught of emotions. Still, in spite of the wariness and uncertainty, he seemed genuinely interested in the various goings-on, and was now focused on what I abruptly realized was Hunter and Aunt Doreen going on about their cosmological vendetta that mom had told me about.

“…don’t you think, Piper?” said Hunter, giving me that look that appealed to sisterly loyalty above personal opinion.

I laughed and raised my arms to shoulder height. “It’s been a while since I took cosmology, sib!”

Sarda looked over at me with a poker face and a whisper of telepathic amusement. “I seem to recall you having some issues with the concept even at the time,” he said, and gravely took another sip of moss-juice. I grinned and sat back to watch this one play out.

There was a tiny beat of silence, and then Hunter burst into laughter.

“Oh, do tell!” they said. “The way Piper frames things, you’d think she blew away every record at the academy.”

“Only one that I am aware of,” said Sarda, still gravely, “And that was in command, not cosmology.”

“Wait…she really did?” said Hunter. “What did she _do_?”

I made a mock annoyed sound andcrossed my arms.

“I was not there personally,” said Sarda, “but I have been told that she most certainly broke the record for most computer systems locked up in a single test-taking incident.”

“That is _not_ how I would have phrased it,” I said.

“We know,” shot back Hunter. “That’s why we want _his_ version.”

I tried to maintain my façade of sisterly annoyance, but right then the fact that Sarda was beside me in my own family playing with the insulting banter that made us work was too much. I couldn’t keep down my smile. So I uncrossed my arms and stuffed my face instead.

“Whatever,” I mumbled through a bite of lichen-horsetail bread, and listened as Sarda started weaving stories about life at the academy.

—

“You’re quite the storyteller,” I said later, when we were alone together.

Sarda raised an eyebrow. “I was merely conveying events as they appeared to me.”

I aimed a swat at the air between us. “Right,” I said. “That’s why it was so artfully directed at the specific audience you had in mind.”

“Certainly,” said Sarda, “I selected the details that seemed most relevant.”

I grinned and sat down on the bed. We were in one of the guest rooms in the main house, rather than in my old room in my parents’ house, mostly because the bed was bigger. We’d already proven that we could squeeze in a night’s rest even in a Starfleet-issue micro-bunk, but still. Elbow room would e nice.

“So,” I said. “What do you think?”

Sarda regarded me for a moment, and then glanced in the general direction of the common room. “I believe I have come to see the origin of certain traits that you possess.”

My lips twitched. “‘I come by it honestly’?”

“Indeed,” said Sarda, and sat down next to me.

I would have cracked another joke, but instead I cracked an unexpected yawn.

“I’ve gotten complacent,” I attempted to say through the yawn. “They wore me out.” 

“You should sleep,” said Sarda.

“So should _you_ ,” I said, automatically combative.

“Of course. But I will require some time for meditation first.”

My lips twitched. “They wore you out too.”

Sarda just raised an eyebrow back at me.

I cracked my stiff neck. “I’m afraid we don’t have much of a place for stargazing down here. Sorry.”

“That is not necessary. Helpful, but not necessary.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Well, you could also just use one of the other guest rooms.”

Sarda hesitated. “I was simply going to remain here.”

I started a little. I’d seen him meditating once, but it was always something he’d gone off on his own to do—certainly never in front of me. But then, I guess things change.

“Oh!” I said. “Sure, unless you wanted your privacy.”

“I may, sometimes,” said Sarda.

“Fair enough,” I said. 

Sarda settled back on his knees on the floor beside the bed and I rolled into the comfort of a non-fleet-issue bed. My last sight before drifting off was his face, more at peace than I had ever known it.

—


	3. Vulcan

Unfortunately, we couldn’t spend our whole leave on Proxima. After all, if Sarda met my family, it was only fair that I do my best to make a good impression on his. I, of course, fully expected to fail. 

But before we did that, we had one stop to make: A Vulcan healer who specialized in mixed bonds. 

I forced my hand to stop tapping...again...and tried to convince myself I wasn’t more nervous than moss on a rolling stone. 

From beside me, I felt Sarda’s warm mental presence solidify just a little more, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. I took a deeper breath and my heart slowed a little in spite of myself. 

There was a soft sound of a door opening and my heart jumped back into warp. 

“Piper?” 

The tone was neutral. Almost bored. I took some comfort in that and rose to my feet. 

Sarda did not. 

I looked at him. 

“I will follow shortly.”

I swallowed, tried to word an answer, and then just nodded. Sarda projected another moment of that comforting warmth. 

I turned and followed the person who had spoken. 

The door toward the waiting room swished shut and I finally looked up to see who I was following. 

She was a fairly small woman by Vulcan standards, and I fairly towered over her. It made me want to shrink even more than I already did. 

“My name is T’Kau.”

She turned, and gestured into a smaller room. “Would you like to sit down?”

Her phrasing caught me off guard. “Not ‘it is logical to sit’?” I said, before debating the wisdom of saying it. 

“I have worked with many humans,” said T’Kau without surprise. “And those of many other races. I find it best not to insist upon one way of doing things when we can instead find a way that meets everyone’s needs.”

“Huh,” I said, taking a seat on something like a low couch. “I mean...I guess that’s...logical.”

I think she almost smiled. “If you can make allowances for logic, and I can make allowance for emotion, then both of us together may find a way better than either alone.”

I did smile, finding I’d relaxed a little in spite of myself. “Deal.”

“Of course, you certainly must already know this, or you would not be here.”

I dropped my eyes, unaccountably nervous again. 

“I...uh...yeah.”

T’Kau folded her hands on her lap. “I have been told that you have come to me to repair an unbalanced bond that was created under circumstances that did not allow for delay. Is this correct?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s one way to put it.”

“And this is what you want?”

I clenched my jaw, mostly to hold back more emotion than her words really warranted. “Why does everyone think I should leave him?”

“I do not think that. I think that decisions made in moments of crisis should be considered further when there is the luxury of time.”

“Well, it’s been over a month, is that long enough for you?”

“The only thing that matters is whether it is long enough for _you_. I am here neither to judge nor to argue. Only to ensure that I have enough information to assist you.”

I swallowed, and closed my eyes for a moment. Think like a Vulcan. Just a little. 

I opened my eyes again and looked up to see T’Kau watching me with no signs of impatience. 

“Ok,” I said, not quite sure what I was agreeing to. “Ok. Yes. It’s...what I want. It’s what I’ve wanted for a lot longer than I let myself realize, and I’m ready to do it right.”

T’Kau nodded. “Then I can help you.” She settled a little into her seat. “Will you answer a few questions about the circumstances of your bonding?”

“Yeah,” I said. It wasn’t that I wanted to, but it wasn’t exactly unexpected.

“Was this experience the first time your minds had touched?”

“Y—wait...maybe?”

“Oh?”

“I mean...it was...nothing like that. But he was…” I hesitated. “He’s been a warm spot in my mind for...a while. I used to think I was imagining it, but now?”

She nodded. “I see. During the incident, did you understand what was happening?”

I snorted. “I understood that Sarda was dying, and I was supposed to help him, and he wouldn’t tell me how.”

She looked at me with a slight frown. “At what point did you find out?”

“Uh...probably at the point he grabbed my face?”

I didn’t like the slight furrow between her eyes. 

“It was...I…” I stopped and started over. “Ok. He kept telling me to stay away, but I wouldn’t. I finally ended up kinda accidentally knocked him over, there was SOME kind of skin contact, and like...I guess I broke his control, and that’s when he grabbed my face.”

“I see. And then?”

“It was….overwhelming. I jerked hard enough to break contact, but...by that point, I understood.”

T’Kau nodded. “And you did not pull back when he reinitiated the link?”

I shook my head. “I’m the one who pulled his hands back to my face.”

I wasn’t sure what subtle line of her face it was that shifted, but after this long Vulcan-watching, I knew that something about that had put her more at ease. 

I gave an awkward laugh. “Why do I feel like I just passed a pop quiz?”

T’Kau shook her head, but her lips curved almost imperceptibly upward. “There are no wrong answers. What is, is. But if you were attempting to be an active participant from the beginning, that will make things easier.”

I let out a breath. “Easier sounds good.”

She nodded. “I believe I have gained all the information that can be conveyed with words. Will you allow me to touch your mind?”

I tensed in spite of myself. This was the part I had dreaded when Sarda had told me we needed to do this. 

But then again, T’Kau was...less intimidating than I had imagined. 

With a steadying breath, I nodded. “Ok. I’m ready.”

I wasn’t, but oh well. 

The healer shifted forward raised her hand. “It will only be a very light touch. I will in no way invade your privacy.”

I nodded again, and very gently on my skin. 

I told myself not to flinch. I flinched. 

But...after that instinctive twitch, I found that she had told the truth. I _could_ feel her, in that weird new-dimension way, but only like a gentle breeze brushing by me. 

The breeze swirled around that warm spot in my soul that Sarda occupied, and then up and down and sideways around the inside of my skull. Then it withdrew, and I opened my eyes I’d forgotten I’d closed. 

“So?” I said. 

T’Kau tilted her head. “It is certainly clear that he did not have enough training, and it is unbalanced. However…” She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “However, while rough, it is stronger than I would have estimated given your circumstances. Not as strong as it can be made, but...you did well within your context.”

“Um...thanks?”

“Is there anything you wish to discuss before we bring your bondmate in?”

I hesitated. 

“Your silence suggests an answer.”

Damn Vulcans. 

“It’s just…” I sighed. “He still feels like a monster whenever he touches me. We’ve definitely made some progress, and I don’t need any rush? But...is there anything I can do to help?”

“Learning to project intentionally may serve you well in that regard. If he feels your reactions as his own, it may help him achieve a new perspective.”

Nodding slowly, I said “Okay. Let’s bring him in.”

The healer was only gone for a moment, but it was definitely long enough for my nerves to start acting up. I knew that it was vanishingly unlikely that Sarda had changed his mind and decided to break the bond in the few minutes I’d been talking to T’Kau, but, maybe..

The door opened, and T’Kau guided Sarda into the room. 

My heart leapt more than was really warranted, but oh my god, suddenly I was looking forward to this. 

I had no reason to fear the healer’s mind-touch. Sarda had come. We were finally going to get this right. 

“If you will sit next to her?”

I shifted to make room and Sarda sat down next to me. There was some tension in his frame, but the flicker through the bond told me it was more anticipation than fear. 

Wait, wait. This was _happening_. This was really happening!

I felt like I was struggling not to vibrate like a plucked wire. 

T’Kau moved closer. “To do this,” she said directed mainly at me, “I will need to use a deeper touch than before, though I will still maintain your privacy. Is this acceptable to you?”

I nodded, a lot more sure this time. “Please.”

Her touch was soft on my face. 

For just a moment, it remained physical, and then shifted again into that new dimension again. 

Where it had been the lightest of breezes before, it was a much sharper wind now, reminding me of the ocean wind spraying salt against my skin aboard the _Edith Keeler,_ though without the abrasiveness. 

The wind swirled towards that warm spot. But instead of extinguishing it like a candle, it seemed to grow in like a bonfire. 

The warm spot grew...or moved closer? Either way, it filled more of my awareness, moving from something I could almost dismiss as imagination to something gloriously tangible. 

_Sarda!_

He reached back. And this time, we met as equals on this new plane. 

The rightness was overwhelming. THIS was where we were always supposed to have been. I didn’t have to struggle this time to reach out and offer him that same warmth to tuck away in whatever corner of his mind I occupied. 

It felt like no time at all before we were pulled back into time. 

The healer’s eyes were closed, and there seemed to be a line of weariness on her face. I glanced at the chronometer. 

“Ninety-five minutes?!” Surely that was wrong. It had only been….I couldn’t find any point of reference. 

“Yes,” confirmed Sarda. 

“It doesn’t seem possible,” I said, shaking myself in bewilderment. 

“It is difficult to accurately mark the passage of time in the mental realm until you are used to it,” said T’Kau. “Nevertheless, the chronometer is correct.” She took a deep breath. “Now, I must rest. You may return to your current place of residence. I will contact you in the morning, but for the moment, I believe you are both in a much more stable position.” She rose to her feet and nodded at us. “My assistant will show you out. Until next time, I must bid you farewell.”

—

The hotel room was spare, but functional. 

I sat down and tested out the bed, and then looked up at Sarda. 

“You ok with this arrangement?” I said. 

He sat down next to me. “I am,” he said, “if you are.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “It’s gonna be harder when we meet your parents, isn’t it?”

“My mother,” corrected Sarda without thinking about it. “My father has been dead many years.” He considered a moment, and then added, “Much of the rest of my clan will also be...difficult. However…” He hesitated. “You may like my sister.”

I looked over at him at that. 

“She is like you in some ways,” said Sarda. “Though very different in others. She…” He hesitated again. “She had my mother’s blessing to study offworld.”

My eyes narrowed in spite of myself. “She did?” I said. “When YOU didn’t?”

Sarda reached out, and very gently placed his hand on my wrist. 

“That was never her doing. Nor do I have any cause to blame her.”

He was quiet for a long, long moment. 

“I cannot control your reaction to my mother, or the clan elders. However…I wish that you grant my sister the same allowances you are willing to offer me.”

I slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

I looked off into the distance for a moment. 

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“For either of us.”

“Can...can I ask what you already told them about me?”

Sarda was quiet for a moment. 

“I told them…” He seemed to struggle with words for a moment. “I told them _….nam-tor du ko-telsu eh ne ki’ne.”_

I didn’t know the little words, but that didn’t matter because I knew the important ones. “That’s, like…”partner”, right? And “shield...shieldmate or something?”

“Bondmate, or wife, and...yes. The more common translation is ‘shield-partner’, but ‘shieldmate’ is also not incorrect.”

I took a deep breath, feeling a kind of stability sink through me. He had my back, and I had his. 

“Ok. Let’s make the best impression.”

—

It was hot. 

It was hot and I was itchy. 

It was hot, I was itchy, and Vulcans could be so _impeccably_ insulting. 

I had expected an awkward dinner or something with the in-laws. I had NOT expected a full-fledged council interrogation. 

“And you are the one to introduce him to weapons design?” said one woman approximately as old as the galaxy. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

“No, I didn’t. That’s not even my field.”

“And yet you were the one to recommend him for a position in that field.”

I bit the inside of my lip until I tasted blood. “An unfortunate misunderstanding,” I said as Vulcanly as I humanly could. 

“And yet, despite this misunderstanding,” said a different old woman, “and the resulting clash of ideals, you still found it in you to aid our clan’s son in his hour of need.”

“Of course,” I said instantly, but it didn’t quite drown out the soft chorus of just-too-strong breaths that seemed to mark a Vulcan gathering on the edge of existential shock. 

“She did,” said Sarda, speaking up for the first time in a while. “I will never fail to remember her gift.”

“Then it seems,” said the second woman, raising her voice, “that their marriage is as well-founded as any. If they wish to remain joined, what grounds does any have to reject them?”

“It is not _suitable!”_

That outburst was from Sarda’s own mother. 

“And what makes _you_ suitable?”

The words were already out of my mouth by the time I had spoken them. 

I reached out for Sarda in my mind for help, but found only support for my words. 

I opened my eyes and stared his mother down. 

“Your son is one of the best men I have ever met. Even when we were most at odds—a time that destroyed me, even though it was my fault—he never, even once, stooped to the level of declaring himself better than me by birthright. Even when he was most deeply wounded by your...by your unrepentant bigotry and xenophobia, he never even tried to stoop to your level.” I took the deepest breath I could manage without pain. 

“I am here for _him_. Not for you. If you decide he’s nothing but chopped liver to you, well, there’s exactly nothing I can do. 

“But I hope you understand this: I love him. I love him and he has said he doesn’t want me to leave, so for as long as that remains the case, you have to deal with both of us….or neither of us.”

I took one more deep breath, willing myself not to block out Sarda's hurt at the rejection of his own family. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to ignore the fact that it makes you terrible people.”

There was a slight disturbance equivalent to a complete uproar. 

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s my family now. He’s my family’s family now. He doesn’t need you anymore—so whether he interacts with you ever again depends entirely on whether you treat him like shit or not.”

That was about all I had, I suddenly realized, so I bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you for your time,” I said formally, and stepped back to my place. 

A deep silence fell. Kinda like the sound you don’t hear after you’ve been momentarily deafened by an enormous noise. 

The second old woman, the one who had defended us, spoke first.

“I believe we all have much to meditate on,” she said placidly. “Perhaps it is an appropriate time to end the discussions and reconvene at a later point.” 

There was a slight murmur of assent. 

“In the meantime,” she said, looking at us—and possibly, directly into my soul— “while I am sure the young couple has already made arrangements for their lodging, they are also welcome in my home tonight.”

There was a slight ruffling of Vulcan feathers. I cranked the inside of my head toward Sarda, trying to catch a little context, but his attention was focused solely—sadly—on his mother. 

She was silent, for a long moment seeming as though she wanted to speak. But the moment passed, and she turned away and left without another word. 

I found my attention drawn back toward the old women who had invited us, and she was quietly waiting for an answer. 

I pinged the question at Sarda. He didn’t care.

“Ok,” I answered for both of us. “We accept your hospitality.”

—

Her name was T’Hana. 

Her exact relation to Sarda still eluded me, so I mentally tagged her as his aunt...maybe great-aunt?....and moved on. 

Sarda was still too quiet and withdrawn. I’d said this would be hard, but my heart still ached to see him so torn up inside. 

Abruptly, I realized she was watching me watch him. 

“I believe we could all use some tea,” she said. “I will return in a moment.”

That left me and Sarda alone for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. 

“Hey,” I said softly.

Sarda’s eyes refocused from whatever internal scene he was replaying, and he looked up at me. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I said I would try to make a good impression.”

He let out a tired breath. 

“I do not believe it could have gone better than it did. The only thing you changed was ensuring that the lines of tension were entirely explicit and not couched in careful deniability.” He looked down again. “I almost wish I could fault you for that. But I cannot.”

“Still,” I said. “I’m just. I’m so sorry things ended up here.”

“Again I almost wish to agree. And yet...sometimes what is _necessary_ is also...painful.”

I tightened my lips. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah. But…”

But what? I wished I could offer him some comfort. 

Maybe I could? Just a little?

“Yeah,” I repeated, “but I still get to be sad that you have to go through the painful part.” I brushed his arm with one hand to get his attention, and then offered my first two fingers with the other. 

Sarda looked at them, and then something in him seemed to lighten a fraction. He reached out and placed the pads of his own fingers against mine. 

I still wasn’t quite sure I understood it. But I knew it meant something to him, on his own terms, and that mattered. 

We let our skin share that contact for a long, comforting moment, but he pulled away when his aunt returned with the tea. 

“It is not improper for bondmates to express devotion in such a manner,” she said calmly, setting down a cup near each of us. “Nor would I ask you to refrain for my sake. Now,” she said, settling into her own seat with her own steaming cup. “Perhaps you would be willing to become better acquainted.”

—

Piper’s presence was a warm spot in his mind. 

That was something he held to, used as an anchor when the doubts threatened to overwhelm him. 

He had known it would hurt. But somehow, he had held on to the hope that it would be over quickly, that they would simply disown him and be done with it. Somehow the intermingled debate was worse than he had expected. 

Piper had held out for a respectably long time. Honestly, he had hoped her outburst would end the proceedings entirely. 

But no, tomorrow would bring yet more pain. 

He didn’t care where they slept. It didn’t matter. 

This vaguely dissociated state lasted until they were already under T’Hana’s roof, speaking with Piper alone for the first time in too long, and then she offered him the _ozh-esta._

The small touch of her skin brought him back into the present, into his own body. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to be there, but she wanted him there, so he let himself try. 

T’Hana called them bondmates. She had called them a couple, he realized slowly, had called them a marriage. He let his eyes focus on her as she asked if they could get to know each other. 

“What do you wish to know?” he asked. 

T’Hana gave a slight shrug. “Nothing of importance,” she said. “What is the least important thing you can think of to tell me?”

Beside him, Piper laughed aloud. He locked that sound in his soul. 

“Well!” she said. “When I was a kid, I desperately wanted a pet squirrel. Does that count?”

“It does indeed,” said T’Hana. “Especially as, I believe, you are from Proxima Beta? I have read that the squirrels there are rather...formidable.”

“They really are,” said Piper. 

“Not unlike yourself,” said Sarda, raising an eyebrow and, for the first time in a while, feeling like engaging in some inconsequential banter. 

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended, so thank you.” She gave a mock bow. 

“And you?” asked T’Hana. 

Sarda considered. “I was once asked to create a functional audio communications device out of a medical scanner and an electric match.”

“Hey!” said Piper, but she was smiling. “You could also have used our uniforms or bedrolls.”

Sarda almost smiled. 

It was enough to break the tension, and all three of them found themselves chatting about unimportant details for a while. 

“So what do you plan to do?” asked T’Hana when the conversation turned that way again. 

“I mean, I always intended to command my own starship one day,” said Piper, glancing at Sarda, “though the details are flexible. What about you?”

Sarda considered that for a long moment. 

“I believe,” he said slowly, “that my original intent was mostly to establish myself as autonomous. It seems I have done that. I find myself without any specific overarching plan for my future...though I do have a number of more specific goals in the shorter term.”

“I see,” said T’Hana. “Those seem to be complementary goals. That is a useful thing when a couple intends to make a life together.”

That sparked something in Sarda’s memory.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” said T’Hana. 

“May I ask...what has become of T’Lar?”

“Who’s that?” asked Piper. 

“That was the name of his original bondmate,” said T’Hana placidly. 

“The...oh. The one I...oh. I’m...sorry.”

“I do not believe there is cause for sorrow,” said T’Hana. “While at one time it may have been a painful break...she has done well for herself. She is currently studying ancient pre-reform mythology while living with one whom I believe her immediate family insist on referring to as a ‘friend’.” 

Piper looked surprised, and then grinned. “Oh, a gal pal? An intimate roommate? A classmate who just happens to share the same bed?”

“That does seem to be the implication, yes.”

It took Sarda a few moments longer to process the implication, but when he did, he settled back just a little. 

“I am pleased she has found a path that suits her,” he said. 

“I believe she will return the sentiment. Still...it has become late. Perhaps it is time to rest.”

Piper stifled a yawn. “Now that you mention it…”

T’Hana rose and gestured. “Then let me show you to the guest room.”

-

The room was small but the bed was large. 

As soon as I saw it, I wanted to plant myself facefirst and forget this whole godforsaken planet. 

“A reasonable response,” murmured Sarda behind me. 

I was already in motion trying to make that desire a reality before I realized how far the shield between us must have slipped. Still, I probably could have predicted the outcome of turning toward him while mid-flop. 

I landed halfway off the bed in a graceless heap. 

“Ow,” I said, as Sarda caught my hand to help pull me back to my feet. 

The apology I’d intended died on my lips. It had been such an automatic motion on his part, easy and without hesitation. 

I smiled down at his hand, and then met his eyes. “I was going to apologize for projecting like that,” I said. “But I’m not entirely sure I’m sorry.”

A little bit of that hesitancy had already returned to Sarda’s frame as he processed his own side of the small moment. But he didn’t let go, either.

“It should become easier with time, to let it rise and fall as we wish it,” he said. 

I nodded, and then, just for a moment, focused on opening my end of the link. After a moment, he did the same. 

It was nothing I hadn’t known—he was tired, he was sad, something in him ached for the family he should have had. On my part, I was angry and sorry I was angry and angry that I had to be sorry. 

I sighed, and let the moment fade away. 

“I am sorry you had to experience that,” said Sarda, letting go and turning slightly away.

I reached out and touched his arm. 

“Sarda,” I said. “I may not have _enjoyed_ being there today...but there’s also nowhere I would rather have been.”

Sarda was probably still forming an answer, but my body picked that moment to crack a massive yawn.

“...and that’s still gonna be true tomorrow, but I’m gonna need sleep for that.”

“Yes,” said Sarda. “I too require rest.”

I smiled sadly. “They wore you out worse than my family did.”

“Perhaps.”

“Well. Whatever tomorrow brings, sleep will help.”

—

As it turned out, my worries about the next day never materialized. 

The two Vulcans were already up by the time I woke—I was glad they’d allowed for my human circadian rhythm. 

Sarda had a cup of coffee waiting for me. 

I looked at it in surprise. I didn’t always start my day with my favorite stimulant, so it wasn’t like he was continuing a daily routine. 

“It seemed prudent,” said Sarda. 

“It’s more than welcome,” I said, accepting the cup and sitting down. “So,” I said after taking a bracing sip, “more of the same?”

“The clan council has elected to hold off on reconvening,” said T’Hana, with just the slightest hint of...humor? Wryness? I-told-you-so-ness?

“Wait…what?”

I glanced at Sarda, but he felt...more resigned than relieved. 

“So…” I hazarded a guess, “they’re...what? Indecided? Infighting? Hoping to wait until this whole situation can be forgotten or ignored?”

“Any, or all, I expect,” said T’Hana placidly, “depending on who you question.”

“So mainly the infighting. Well.” I took another, longer, pull on my coffee. 

“Perhaps,” said T’Hana, heading off my next comment, “you would consider another possibility for spending your unexpectedly unengaged time here: it seems T’Lian is briefly onworld.”

I frowned, trying to place the name. “Who?”

“My sister,” said Sarda. 

“Oh! Right. So...she’s in town, more or less?”

“Indeed,” said Sarda’s aunt. “I believe you may find it worth your time to meet her.”

—

T’Lian was impeccably Vulcan, but somehow I didn’t hate her. 

We met at a small...park? Grotto? Memorial? Honestly I had no idea what to call it, but it was outdoors and it was clearly designed for people to inhabit in some transitory fashion. 

“Greetings,” she said smoothly. “I am T’Lian. I have been told that you are my brother’s new bondmate.”

I laughed, despite having sternly told myself not to. “Well. If that’s you’re calling me then I like you already.”

T’Lian nodded slightly. “Our mother can be….dogmatic. I regret that you had to meet her in such a fashion.”

“Would she really have been a different person if I _had_ met her some other way?”

“No,” said T’Lian. “But then perhaps you would not have borne the brunt of her disapproval.”

“Better me than Sarda. I don’t care what she thinks.”

T’Lian nodded slowly. “Entirely logical.”

“So,” I said after the silence had extended past my point of comfort, “what are you studying?”

“Comparative philosophy,” said T’Lian. “Which, contrary to our mother’s assumption, is not a course in study on ‘other philosophies and why Surak’s is superior’.”

I winced. “Ouch. I take it you’re not close.”

“I cannot find it in me to completely cut off contact with her.”

“Wanna borrow my mom?” I said. “I mean, she’s not perfect, but she always puts ‘trying to understand’ over everything.”

“An attitude that can cover a multitude of sins,” said T’Lian. “Perhaps one day I will have the pleasure of meeting her.”

I smiled, and I was pretty sure she didn’t judge me for it. “Well, you’re a refreshing change from being demonized for leading your brother astray, that’s for sure.”

T’Lian nodded. “As with any world...generalizations will only take you so far. But patterns certainly exist, and those with more xenophobic views have a tendency to reinforce one another. I hold the hope that you will be open to more of what we are as a world, though I certainly understand if you prefer to distance yourself.”

“I...think I was almost ready to just grab Sarda and run,” I said sheepishly. “But...your aunt T’Hana, and now you, have given me some hope that he isn’t alone here.”

“No,” agreed T’Lian. “Not alone. Swimming upstream, perhaps, but not alone.”

“I’m glad,” I said, sincerely. “It’s...I’m glad. I don’t know what it is to lose your origin, but from him I know it hurts.”

“It does,” said T’Lian, “in different ways and in different measures. But there have always been those who broke the rules, whatever those rules may have meant at the time, and there is some comfort in that.”

I sighed. “‘Some comfort’ isn’t what I would hope for him.”

“I expect he takes far more comfort in you. Simply accepting him without expectation is more precious than you may realize.”

A breath released from my chest that I’d forgotten was there. “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

T’Lian looked up past me, and when I matched my gaze to hers, I saw Sarda approaching with T’Hana. 

“What news?” said T’Lian. 

“Well, it is certainly news,” said T’Hana placidly. 

“The...clan elders,” said Sarda, uncertainly, “have elected to consider both of us members in full standing.”

I opened my mouth, but couldn’t find anything to say. 

“Over our mother’s objection, I must assume,” said T’Lian. 

Sarda bowed his head. “Yes.”

I glanced down, but T’Lian only nodded sadly. “I was unable to hope otherwise,” she said. “But...then it is true that she has lost some significant hold she once had.”

“If only she wasn’t trying to hold on to something like...that,” I said. 

“I also wish it,” said T’Lian. “But that is neither here nor there. Her choices are her own—we can only support or oppose them.”

“And,” said Sarda slowly, “I suppose we are no longer alone in opposing them.”

“No. I don’t think we are.”

I glanced up toward T’Hana, whose lips twitched ever so slightly in the Vulcan equivalent of a soft smile. “You were never alone. But if it is easier for those who follow me...then I am pleased that things have changed.”

“Then...what exactly does that mean for us?” I asked. 

“Likely very little for you personally,” said T’Lian. “Your life is focused on Starfleet.”

“And for Sarda?”

“I will not be cast out,” he said. 

I grimaced. “Well. That’s. Something?”

“Perhaps, for now, it will be enough,” said T’Hana. 

“Well,” I said. “In that case. What else do I need to see of Vulcan before the Enterprise picks us up?”

—


	4. Home again

It was late when we finally rematerialized onboard the Enterprise. Way past my bedtime. 

“Hey-oh, Piper, Points!”

“...Scanner?” I said. “Since when are you on transporter duty?”

“Since I saw you scheduled to get back from meeting the in-laws,” said Scanner cheerfully. 

“He also insisted,” said Merete from off to the side, “that I be present in case you brought back any exotic pathogens from your travels.”

“The odds of that—” started Sarda. 

“—are irrelevant,” said Scanner even more cheerfully. “Welcome home!”

I laughed in spite of myself. “Missed us that much, did you?”

“Of course,” said Scanner, waving a hand dismissively. “But more importantly, I want  _ all _ the news on how meeting the in-laws went.”

“We have only been gone for—” Sarda tried again. 

“Psh,” said Scanner. “I’ve been waiting for this for like a year and a half.”

Sarda raised an eyebrow. “That is somewhat longer than we have been an item, Judd.”

“You two were the only ones who thought you were subtle,” said Scanner with a grin. 

I looked at Merete helplessly. “He can’t be serious.”

Merete shrugged noncommittally. “Well, the circumstances were a surprise.”

I looked at Sarda, who looked back at me. “Were we the last ones to notice?”

“It seems that may have been the case.”

“You still have to tell us all about it!” said Scanner excitedly, gesturing us towards the hallway. “How did it go? Who liked you the best? Did you make a good impression? Have they all been invited to the eventual wedding?”

By that point we’d somehow made it to the door of Scanner and Merete’s shared quarters, and he ushered us in. In spite of myself, I obeyed. 

“Well,” I said, sitting down on the nearest surface, “my mom already made me promise to invite her if we ever have a wedding, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Can I be best man?” said Scanner brightly.

I looked helplessly at Sarda, who was shielding, but still radiating a glimmer of amusement. 

“Or man of honor!” added Scanner, still way too enthusiastically. “I’m not picky!”

I snorted, and then I laughed, and then I was wiping away overtired tears of laughter. 

“God I’ve missed this,” I said when I could breathe again.

“Well of course,” said Scanner. “What else is family for?”

I opened my mouth to reply, and then closed it again. 

I looked at Merete, who was less boisterous, but smiling a real smile, and then over at Sarda, whose characteristic lines of tension had almost disappeared. 

“Yeah,” I said. “What  _ are  _ we for?”

—

I yawned blindly as I stumbled into our quarters. I thought I’d been tired when we’d beamed up—I was  _ dead  _ after having satisfied Scanner’s curiosity. 

I tripped over my feet a little, and felt Sarda take my arm and guide me to the nearest bunk. 

The yawn finally ended, and as I blinked my way back to what consciousness I could still manage, I realized it was Sarda’s bunk, which I’d never been in. 

“Oops,” I said, yawning yet again and standing up to move to my own. 

“Here is fine,” said Sarda. “Rest.”

“With you?” I mumbled. 

“In a moment.”

My eyes were blinking shut, but I watched through hooded eyes as Sarda stripped off his shirt and put on a looser sleep top. 

He turned back toward me, and I smiled. “C’mon. It’s bedtime.”

Sarda inclined his head with a sliver of amusement, but he slipped under the sheets and his warmth radiated out and enveloped me. 

“Thank you,” I murmured, but that was all I could manage before sleep overtook me. 

—

I woke with Sarda in my arms. 

We were sort of tangled together, with me as the big spoon and one of his feet between mine. 

I took a moment to just savor the experience. He was still asleep, mostly, but starting to stir. I could feel it in a way I hadn’t been able to before the bond had been repaired. 

“Piper…”

His voice was soft, but clear. 

“Mmm-hmm?” I said lazily, without letting him go.

He was quiet for a long moment. “For just a moment, I thought it was a dream.”

My heart suddenly felt constrained by the confines of my ribs, and I smiled. “Nope.”

Sarda let out a breath that settled him back against me. 

“Sarda?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am also...glad.”

It was the perfect moment...except that my arm was starting to fall asleep. 

I shifted, and felt Sarda tense a little, falling for a moment into the old pattern. 

“Relax,” I said. “I don’t even wanna get up just yet.” I used my top arm to stroke Sarda’s shoulder.

Sarda shifted obligingly, and I managed to free my arm. He paused for a moment, but before we could settle in again, he rolled so that he was facing me instead of being the little spoon. 

I smiled, and raised my hand to trace along his cheek and jaw. 

He twitched a little—I felt that rather than saw it. I paused. “Sorry, too much?”

“No. It is not...too much.”

To emphasize his words, Sarda raised his own hand and drew them, agonizingly gently, up my wrist to hold my hand against him. 

I shivered almost violently. “...do that again?”

Sarda paused, and repeated the ghostly motion, barely grazing the tips of his fingers up the back of my hand, over my knuckles, and this time all the way along to the tips of my fingers. 

“Today in ‘things I didn’t know I was into’,” I muttered to myself as another shiver rippled through me. 

Sarda slowly let his fingers float back down again. “This is...something you wish to experience?”

“Well, I didn’t before now…” I said. “I didn’t know it was...something to want.”

Sarda was quiet for a moment, continuing his slow motions. 

“I wished it,” he confessed almost inaudibly. 

I looked up in surprise, but he was looking down. 

“I did not think it possible...but I wished it.”

“You...you really did want this? Want...me? Before…?”

“I first knew it when you stepped back to let me follow Perrin,” said Sarda, still very softly. “The moment I knew you accepted what I needed to be. You held out your hand to offer me that choice, and I have not since ceased longing to take it.”

It was something unbearably precious, to know that he offered this kind of openness willingly, even—especially—when it was still so hard for him. 

“Show me,” I whispered. “Take my hand. Show me what you wanted to do.”

Sarda’s eyes flickered up to meet mine for a moment, and then down again. But he had heard me. He shifted and brought his other hand up too. 

I closed my eyes to concentrate on  _ feeling,  _ and then opened them again because there was almost too much feeling to feel. 

Sarda took my hand in both of his and gently pulled it away from his face and into the space between us, and then turned it palm up. He looked at it, and I could almost feel his gaze reading my palm. Or maybe I  _ could _ feel it—the bond between us was quiet, but very much present. 

He held up his first two fingers and hovered them over my palm, not quite touching, until I was biting my lip in anticipation as he decided where to touch first. 

He curled around a little and chose the side of my index finger. 

Once again I shivered. He traced, way too slowly, at just the right pace, up my finger, past the joints, and paused at the very tip. He folded his hand so our palms were parallel and let the pads of our first two fingers rest against each other for a moment. 

“The  _ ozh-esta _ ,” he murmured, “has a long history.”

“I...see,” I said, a little breathlessly. “God. I thought it was just, like...ceremonial.”

“It is that too,” said Sarda. “But…”

In lieu of an explanation, he traced his two fingers down mine and then through the valley where the top of my palm met the base of my fingers. 

I let out a breath way too hard to keep myself from holding it. 

“You wanted this, and I had no idea,” I muttered to myself. “I just...we could have had this so much sooner.”

“We have it now.”

I smiled. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah. We do.”


End file.
